


Scrap Queen

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Series: Gifts and Requests [6]
Category: Ace Combat
Genre: Dirty Sex, F/M, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: You and Avril Mead are partners in more ways than one. Not only does she fix your ship whenever she can, she’s also just eager for some sweaty, grimy fucking when you're in the mood! Because, honestly, there’s not a lot hotter than a woman willing to get her hands dirty, is there?
Relationships: Avril Mead (Ace Combat)/Reader
Series: Gifts and Requests [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822471
Kudos: 3





	Scrap Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InerrantErotica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InerrantErotica/gifts).



> Originally posted in [July 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715794?view_full_work=true).

“She looks great, Avril. What’d you do to tune her up this time?”

The mechanic huffed and wiped her forehead, leaving a streak of black soot across her skin. Avril Mead was positively _drenched_ in sweat and engine oil, the former streaming down her neck, cheeks and shoulders to drip onto the floor, the latter sticking to her tank top in heavy, dark stains. You had absolutely no idea how she could breathe, much less perform such precise, labor-intensive work in such sweltering conditions for hours on end, but you were grateful for her skills. The adjustments she'd made had saved your life more times than you cared to count, and you had no doubts that she would keep amazing you.

“You know I’m not gonna tell you that, dumbass. I haven’t yet, and I’m not gonna start now.” She stuck her tongue out at you, unlatching the goggles that she’d been using to protect her eyes while she welded... _something_ into place. You didn’t dare guess what it was, and knew better than to ask again.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t tease her about it, though. “What’s that, Scrap Queen? Am I detecting...defensiveness? You’re not worried about your work, are you?” Your tone makes it clear that you’re teasing, even as she smacks you across the shoulder hard enough to make you stumble. It stings, but that’s a fair price to pay to needle someone so adorably prickly.

“Very funny, Skyguy.” She’s trying to frown, but she can’t keep a straight face, a grin breaking out and stretching the smudge marks across her cheeks. Avril’s enjoying this, and you don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t. Sure, you give each other crap, but when it’s all said and done you still depend on each other. Your flying keeps her safe, and her engineering returns the favor. You’re a good match. Not just as pilot and mechanic, of course, but as for the rest…

“Not really.”

“Yeah, that was kinda bullshit.” She tilts her head to the side and pokes your shoulder again, but you grab her hand before she can withdraw it. Avril’s not the shy, bashful, demure type of lady—not much of a lady at all, though for all her tomboyish roughness she’s got an elegance to how she works a wrench, or your dick, and she’s as tight around you as any high-society gal—but you suspect that if her cheeks weren’t already flushed from the heat, she’d be blushing at your touch.

“This isn’t, though.” You whisper, leaning forward to press your lips against hers. The fire’s still in her, in how she tenses and grips your hand, her muscular arms wrapping around your side to pull you closer, but it’s only enough to remind you that she’s the Avril you know. The scrapper and the swearer, the woman more comfortable with heavy objects than fighting but no less strong for how she applies her skillset. You don’t forget any of that as you taste sweat and salt on her lips, the oil on her top staining your shirt as you press against each other beneath your plane. 

You slip forward together, cradling her in your embrace as you go to soften the blow of her shoulders against the floor. Avril’s chest is pushing against you, her breasts pillowing beneath her top from the weight of your body on them as the back of her head comes to rest on the ground. Your lips drift down from her mouth, your teeth dragging on her lower lip as she moans, and you trail kisses from her chin to the line of her jaw, taking in the salty, bitter smell and taste of engine grease and oil and sweat as you reach her shoulder. You shouldn’t be letting it into your mouth, but you don’t care—Avril’s got such a command over your dick that you’d do far worse than kissing her oil-streaked skin if it meant you got to be with her. She seems to welcome your diligence, her hands grabbing at the back of your head and hair to push you in deeper as your lips trace a path from her shoulder to the clavicle, and then to the hollow of her neck.

Avril starts to moan out something—an encouragement, perhaps, or one of her provocative insults, meant to goad you further—but you cut her off by pressing your face between the hollow of her cleavage, licking and nipping at the portion of her breasts that you can see. The gravity and weight of your face has flattened them against her torso, but they’re still delightfully full to the touch, and you eagerly hollow your cheeks and suck. It’ll leave a hickey on her left tit, but who’s going to point it out?

As wonderful as it is to feel Avril squirming beneath the touch of your lips on her shoulders and breasts, you’re more than a little ready and raring to go for what you’re both _really_ after. Avril seems to agree, adjusting her arms to push you a bit off of her, giving you both space to grab the bottom of her top and pull. You try not to lose your focus as her clothing, sticky and stained with sweat and engine oil, peels off of her skin, inch by inch; first exposing her bellybutton and chiseled stomach; then her stiffened nipples and the tits that they crown; and finally, it’s off. Avril’s left lying beneath you, breathing heavily, perspiration pockmarking her chest and stomach, gooseflesh rising on her skin under your gaze and the breeze on her. You hoist your own shirt off, and she runs her fingers down your abdomen, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

You honestly don’t care. You adore Avril for her mechanical skill, for the fire and smoke that powers her and pours out in her brash, confrontational outbursts, and for how she keeps you safe and happy both in the cockpit and _as_ a cockpit. Getting dirty isn’t just a price you’re willing to pay to fuck her: you welcome it. You’ll take the grime, the stains and streaks and sweat, and ask for more, so long as Avril will take you back, every time.

Her thumbs hook into the waistband of pants, and yours unhook your belt, and then the two of you are pulling your clothes and undergarments off hurriedly, yours still stuck below your knees. If you stood up, you’d fall right over if you tried to run. You don’t have the patience to get fully out of them, and besides—the important part’s exposed. Your cock flops out, growing stiff at the sight of Avril’s black-bushed pussy, glistening and inviting, and you stroke it meaningfully, waiting for her assent. Her trousers are off, but her panties are stuck, dangling from one foot, but that’s all the more inviting, like her anticipation couldn’t permit her even to fully undress.

You slap your cock down on her bellybutton, rubbing your balls against her cunt, and smile. Avril responds in kind, spreading her legs wider, taking one of her tits in hand, and biting her lip while meeting your eyes. A challenge flares up in her gaze, and in that lies your permission. No foreplay this time: she wants you, and she wants you _now._

Your cockhead slips between her lower lips, and she grits her teeth—you’re big, and even someone as used to large tools as her needs adjustment when dealing with weighty equipment. Or, at least, she did the first few times you fucked her, since now Avril can take your dick like a champ and only plays up the strain to turn you on. You appreciate her efforts, and how much she grips and shudders around you, warm and soft and comforting but still demanding that you give her everything you can. You can’t help but oblige, groping her free tit in one hand as you penetrate her deeper, stroking the soot on her cheek as you spread her out on your cock.

When you’re finally buried in her fully, you let out a hiss and hear Avril moan in response, her mouth set back into that half-mocking, half-encouraging smile. In the past, she’s shouted out what she wants enough times for you to put words to that face.

 _Fuck me,_ she’s demanding. _You know I can take it. Hell, I’m tougher than you. So fucking_ do _me already_ , _dumbass._

You accept her command by withdrawing your hips, pulling your dick halfway out while you watch how it glistens with the sheen of her arousal, and plunge back into her, spearing her on your shaft and throwing the full weight of your body into the thrust. You can almost _feel_ the air getting knocked out of Avril with how sudden and swift your movement was, but you also know that she’s not gonna start complaining anytime soon. So you lay into her, ploughing her with all the force you can muster, rubbing her back and butt raw against the floor of the hangar as the power behind your fucking drags her along the ground. You’d be worried that you’d end up fucking her across the room if you weren’t so confident in her ability to hold herself steady against even your deepest pushes inside her cunt.

Avril’s free hand goes down, her index finger brushing against the hood of her slit, each touch leaving her moaning and aching, her pussy quivering around you with each touch of her clit. Her neck’s straining, and you’re so focused on how she’s spasming around you, how her tits swing and sway beneath you, that you aren’t paying attention to her legs. Her thighs grip your sides, her open mouth turns to a grin, and suddenly you’re flipped. Avril’s atop you, tits hanging, sweat dripping down onto your chest, and before you can react she’s bouncing on your dick. Your bodies both smudged with oil and grime and the air’s heavy with the smell of jet exhaust, and you absolutely _love_ it. All of it calls your attention to just how strong Avril is, how sharply her wit works at you, how brilliant she can be, and how that all translates to how fucking _hot_ she is with your dick in her.

Her finger’s back on her clit, rubbing and prodding at the nub beneath her bush, and your thighs start to strain from the force of her ass smacking against them. You wouldn’t trade this for the world. Avril’s mouth, so commonly used to spew well-meaning insults at you, is now a hair’s breadth from singing your praises, or at least complimenting your cock, and every inch of her is either glimmering with sweat and vehicle lubricant or dust of smoke. Your dick’s engulfed over and over again in her warm, tight snatch, lovingly bearing down on you each time Avril lets you bury your dick up to the hilt. All of it coming together, the pressure and heat and smell and more, is too much. You can’t hold on any longer.

Avril’s dutifully keeping her voice down, biting her lip and muffling her cries as the clitoral-stimulation-induced spasming of her cunt accelerates in speed and intensity, and a deeper, rolling shudder echoes forth, washing her in waves of heat. You can almost _see_ the pleasure rocking her body in how Avril’s thighs tense, then her sides, until finally her shoulders and arms are quivering and she’s barely keeping herself atop you. The clamping and gripping on your cunt breaks your resolve and you fill her, balls working overtime to pump hot, gooey, sticky cum up into Avril, flooding her pussy and basting her walls with spunk. Your nuts ache, but you can’t stop splattering her with your load, until finally something gives up the ghost and you exhale, releasing all the tension you’ve been building up waiting for that cumshot in a single breath.

Avril seems to deflate, the power and pressure in her limbs and her body around and above you falling away as she slips forward, bringing her cheek to rest in the space between your neck and shoulder. You slip out of her cunt, cock growing flaccid, balls protesting the work you put them through in giving her such a sizeable creampie. Her leg drapes across your stomach, your load oozing out of her onto your skin as she plants a sloppy kiss on your jaw.

You’re both filthy with sweat, cum, and assorted vehicle maintenance liquids. You’re also happier than you’ve been in a long, long time.

“You’re a dumbass,” Avril murmurs, closing her eyes as you cradle her in your arms, “but you’re _my_ dumbass.”


End file.
